


fairy lights

by matsinko



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Christmas, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, M/M, Reunions, hqss2016, the karasuno 1st year gang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 20:36:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9018376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matsinko/pseuds/matsinko
Summary: Yamaguchi thinks he’ll be spending Christmas alone this year. But all he has to do is believe in miracles after all.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [xetryl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/xetryl/gifts).



> hello, six! i’m your secret santa this year. i didn’t know what to do with this prompt, because you left it up to me, so i went with a sweet, christmas-themed plot, which i really hope you enjoy! may you have wonderful holidays that bring you lots of joy and pleasant surprises!
> 
> merry christmas! ☆
> 
> and special shoutout to beca [(@mattsunflower)](http://mattsunflower.tumblr.com) for the best support and for being such an amazing friend! ily <3

note: in text messages, yamaguchi is italics.

 

\---

 

(12:50am) _hey, will you think of me while you’re gone?_

(12:50am) Always.

 

(24 December)

Snow keeps falling as Yamaguchi hurries down the busy street, his boots crunching through the powdered piles of white. Bright lanterns light up the narrow road, twinkle over the heads of the passersbys - lost souls and tight-knit couples; people making amends with last moment gifts.

His eyes fall on a couple to his left, a bright-eyed girl, her laughter ringing high and pearly to something that her partner said. Wistfulness pools low in his belly as he watches them pass by. Tsukishima has been travellig again because of his work, so Yamaguchi will have to spend Christmas on his own. He lets a sigh escape his lips at the thought and hastens his steps, he’s probably already late anyway.

 

Yamaguchi doesn’t even need to be close, he can tell Hinata’s bright hair apart from miles away. It’s the first thing he spots as he rounds the corner, like a firefly in the darkening sky. His steps come to a halt, a fond smile growing on his face as he observes the two figures waiting near the big christmas tree that has been put up in the town’s center for the holidays.

Hinata is saying something, waving his arms in front of his body energetically, loud and bright as always. Kageyama says something back, catches his wrists in the air, holds them down. It works magic, Yamaguchi thinks, as he observes Hinata melt into the touch, leaning forward until he is flush against Kageyama’s chest.

Yamaguchi watches them with a fond smile, watches them as they hug, his fingers curled in the pockets of his coat, breath forming white clouds in cold air. They’ve come a long way since their high school days and Yamaguchi would be lying if he said he wasn’t proud.

“Aren’t you going,” a familiar voice says, a warm palm brush over his upper arm. “I bet they would be really happy to see you.”

“Yachi-san!” Yamaguchi yelps, then leans forward to hug the shorter girl, “I’m happy you could make it!”

“I couldn’t miss seeing you all,” she smiles back, bright and happy, “it’s not every day that we’re all in the same city!”

“You’re right,” Yamaguchi replies, face hidden behind a huge fluffy scarf. “It has definitely been a while.”

“Let’s go,” Yachi murmurs softly, a palm at Yamaguchi’s back, nudging him forward.

Somewhere in front of them there is shouting, happy and energetic. Hinata is waving his hands again, all jittery movements and a bit too much leftover energy. He is tiptoeing, jumping up and down, Kageyama holding him down by the shoulders… rather unsuccessfully that is, because Hinata tiptoes again, small palms bringing Kageyama down, their noses brushing together.

Yamaguchi can’t help but smile.

Kageyama is the first one to see them coming. He waves and nudges Hinata, saying something Yamaguchi can’t quite catch.

“Yamaguchi! Yachi-san!” Hinata yells when his eyes fall upon the newcomers, then he runs, fast, snow scrunching underneath him and he’s jumping without thinking, almost getting all three of them on the ground in the process. “I’m so happy to see you!” he huffs, small arms squeezing both Yamaguchi and Yachi into a tight hug.

“Let them breathe, idiot!” Kageyama scolds from behind but his voice carries a note of happiness, a smile lingering in between his words. He detaches Hinata from them, holding him by the jacket. Then he offers a small curt bow in their direction, a hello.

“Shall we go then?” Yachi laughs, hiding it behind a gloved palm, “I think we’re already late for the booking anyway.”

 

Their dinner goes well, quick over catching up, laughing and drinking. Yamaguchi leaves the restaurant with pink dusting his cheeks and laughter sticking to the corners of his mouth, his chest tight with gratitude.

Yachi is happily chattering away as the door closes behind them, snowflakes falling and melting into her reddened skin. Hinata is leaning into Kageyama, his lead lulling to the side, eyes droopy and glassy.

“We’ll be off now,” Kageyama says as he wraps an arm around Hinata’s waist, keeping him upright, “I have to get this guy home,” he adds, eyes full of fondness, a carefully woven feeling by the years together, threaded with gentle maturity. It only reminds Yamaguchi how much they’ve grown and the long roads yet ahead of them.

“It was fun catching up!” Yamaguchi offers. “You should definitely come visit more often.”

“We’re gonna keep an eye on you two on TV,” Yachi adds, “make us proud!”

Kageyama reddens at that. “Will do,” he answers almost too quietly in his uneasiness. He looks back down at Hinata, who’s supporting most of his weight against his chest by now, eyes closed. “Well then,” he mumbles, offering a small bow, “take care, Yamaguchi, Yachi-san.”

They both wave and say their goodbyes, watching as Kageyama effortlessly picks up Hinata and carries him along the snowy sidewalk.

Yamaguchi walks Yachi to her car, holds the door open as she settles in.

“Say hi to Shimizu-senpai from me,” he says, eyes turning into half-moons as he smiles at her.

It’s been awhile since he has seen Shimizu. They live in Sendai now, and due to her busy job she rarely travels back to Torono, even for the holidays.

A distant memory of Karasuno comes to mind, a boyish dream come true, the sanctuary of his childhood, full of precious memories and important ups and downs and lessons learnt.

“I will,” Yachi returns with a giggle, “and you tell that dork of a boyfriend of yours to reply my texts. Otherwise we’re not sending him a christmas present this year,” she adds as she sticks her tongue out.

Yamaguchi just chuckles at that, nodding his head in agreement. “Take care!”

 

He is a couple of minutes away from home when his phone buzzes. It’s a photo of the stars, bright yellow spots, constellation splayed across the endless sky. It makes him smile, warmth pooling in his chest. He types out a reply, clicks send.

_I miss you too, Tsukki._

 

The room is warm, too warm compared to the biting cold that December brought upon Miyagi. The windows of their small apartment are foggy and frosted behind the yellow curtains of the living room. There is a tune, a Christmas song, playing somewhere from outside and it’s lulling Yamaguchi in and out of sleep.

It’s past 12, which makes it officially Christmas, and here Yamaguchi is, splayed across his couch underneath a pile of blankets and pillows, body curled in on himself, mind clinging to a dream; not asleep, not really awake either. Images of sharp, golden eyes, lips that curve upwards in a smile he loves so much, words as sharp as knives - never meant to hurt, not him, never him. Warmth pools in his stomach, burning, a reminder of his loneliness

 

Yamaguchi jerks awake, a memory of the dream still lingering, clinging to his mind, the warmth of another body next to him, a voice that he loves so dearly calling his name, a lullaby to his ears.

He mumbles incoherently, still dazed, still soft and sleepy around the edges.

“Shh,” the voice says, a palm gently caressing his skin, lips kissing his name on his forehead, “go back to sleep, Tadashi.”

“Mmm,” Yamaguchi tries again, but his eyelids are heavy, thoughts fuzzy, inviting him to sleep again. He snuggles in closer, shifts a bit so he can hold onto warm hands and soft skin, so familiar, so comforting.

Tsukishima is here with him in his dream and Yamaguchi falls back asleep with a smile.

 

Yamaguchi stirs, his fingertips numb, mind still in a peaceful place between dream and reality. The morning light is filtering through the curtains and it makes him squeeze his eyes unhappily, mumbling under his breath.

“Morning, sunshine,” voice soft as velvet tickles his mind and he hums. He must be still dreaming.

Yamaguchi shifts, buries his face in the pillow, the sweet murmur of a too-familiar song slowly pulling him out of sleep.

He sighs, putting his weight on his elbows, forcing himself up. Drowsiness still has him into a tight embrace, but as he looks up and around the room, trying to pinpoint where the song is coming from, his eyes fall on a familiar figure, sitting barely a meter away.

“Good morning, Tadashi,” Tsukishima says from where he’s sitting on the armchair, a book in his hands, “I made breakfast,” he adds, and his eyes shift from his book to Yamaguchi, a small smile gracing his lips.

“You--,” Yamaguchi stumbles with his words, suddenly completely awake, “you’re really here? But you said--”

“I couldn’t,” Tsukishima explains calmly, “I dropped the project and came home.” He shrugs as he closes the book, gently placing it on the coffee table.

“But your work!”

“You’re more important than my work, Tadashi,” he says with a scowl.  “Now come here,” he adds as he spreads his arms open; an invitation, an offer.

 _Come home, Tadashi. You’re home_.

Yamaguchi doesn’t waste a second. He stumbles out of the blankets and pillows, almost falls twice in the process, and jumps in Tsukishima’s arms, his heart drumming in his ears, waves and waves of happiness washing over him as the reality of the situation settles in.

He wraps his arms around his boyfriend, lithe fingers curling in on the fabric of his shirt. It’s an embrace of longing, of having missed someone who’s so dear, so irreplaceable and important.

He feels Tsukishima’s arms come full circle around his waist, pulling him forward, bodies coming flush against each other, warm palms over his back and Yamaguchi trembles involuntarily, chills running sparks down his spine. He squeezes back, melts into the hug, holds on to Tsukishima like he’s a moth and Tsukishima is a flame. He buries his face in the juncture between Tsukishima’s neck and shoulders breathing in, and murmurs, “Tsukki, Tsukki,” repeats the name again and again like a prayer.

“I’m here, I’m here,” Tsukishima sooths, voice soft, barely a whisper. One of his arm comes to caress the back of Yamaguchi’s neck, long fingers brushing the soft locks there.

“You’re really here,” Yamaguchi sighs out happily, trying to stop the burning behind his eyes with squeezing them shut.

“I wanted to give you something,” Tsukishima murmurs in return, “on Christmas.. I really wanted to.” He shifts a bit and Yamaguchi can feel the change of mood through his body, the way he swallows and licks his lips, the way his fingers shake a little where they’re curled in his hair.

Yamaguchi pulls back enough to look Tsukishima in the eyes, “What is it?” His eyes sparkle with curiosity, two stars, always bright in the starless night, never failing to make Tsukishima’s breath catch in his throat.

He adores him, _adores_ Yamaguchi, always his pillar of strength, his ceaseless support, the person who has been there through good and bad, and who believed in him before Tsukishima himself did.

“Ah, it’s--,” his voice breaks with a high note and he coughs, dropping the sentence altogether. Instead he shifts again, reaching for his pocket. He struggles for a bit to get into the right position to have proper access to his pocket, with Yamaguchi on top of him. He takes out a piece of paper, worn out and yellow. “Here,” he says, voice low.

Yamaguchi takes the paper, unfolds it, and as his eyes scan the content, his breath hitches in his throat, his face heating up, pink rising all to the tips of his ears, “Ahh--Tsukki, that’s--”

“From where we were little,” he interrupts and licks his lips again, his blood thrumming in his veins, a question at the tip of his tongue, “we had to write what we wanted to do when we became adults and when you wrote yours,” Tsukishima makes a pause to look at Yamaguchi in the eyes, to trace the constellations there, bright and full of emotion, “you didn’t want to show it to anyone, not even me.”

Yamaguchi tries to speak, he opens his mouth, forces out an, “I--” then whines and covers his face with his palms, embarrassed.

Tsukishima gently pulls them away, fingers working on soft palms until he can see Yamaguchi’s face again, then he continues, “But then you forgot the damn paper under your desk. And I guess my curiosity got the better of me.” He laughs, a soft happy huff, his lips pink and full and so beautiful Yamaguchi loses focus for a second.

“So I read it,” Tsukishima continues, nervousness sticking to the tip of his tongue, “and all it said is ‘I want to marry Tsukki!’.”

Tsukishima averts his eyes, trains his gaze on the plush carpet instead, a moment to collect his thoughts. “Turn the paper around, Tadashi,” he mumbles, almost inaudibly, his palms going damp and sticky.

There is a soft gasp that escapes Yamaguchi as he reads what’s written on the other side. It’s Tsukishima’s handwriting, Yamaguchi can tell that instantly, but there is maturity in the way his letters curve, it the way the ink stands out black and bright, and he knows, he knows it’s something that hasn’t been written by the child Tsukki.

It says just two words, two words that bring tears to the corners of Yamaguchi’s eyes, hot and prickly. ‘ _Me too.’_

“Yamaguchi Tadashi,” Tsukishima begins as he shifts his eyes back on Yamaguchi. His throat goes dry and uncomfortable, but he pushes, he pushes the words out, because this is Tadashi, _his Tadashi_ , “I love you, I’ve loved you my whole life and I’m going to keep doing that until I die. Will you marry me?”

He seeks Yamaguchi’s gaze, holds it, watches as his eyes fill with realisation and what he sees is a million of stars, a soft tint of brown, a glimmer turning to fireworks, speaking louder than words. He watches as his eyes water, a pretty sparkle over the soft freckles, splayed across his skin like constellations. He watches as love pools in his eyelashes, heavy, forcing him to blink once, twice, three times.

“I’d be really good if you--”

Yamaguchi doesn’t let him finish, he leans in, fast and urgent, fingers curling in on the soft fabric of Tsukishima’s shirt to pull him forward, and fits their mouths together. A sweet sigh against his mouth, a “I will, of course I will,” murmured into his mouth and he drinks it, he drinks it all in, the love, the promises, the burn of a newborn star.

**Author's Note:**

> ([my tumblr](http://matsinko.tumblr.com))


End file.
